


Trap Door

by lamardeuse



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anybody was going to be sharing Fraser's underwear, he wanted it to be him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trap Door

**Author's Note:**

> Written for due South Flashfiction on Livejournal (knickers challenge).

 

It's one of the sick fantasies he's had since he first saw Fraser in that red all-over underwear. Those freak longjohns that made him think of old Minnesota farmers in January. It had never been a particular turn-on for him. But those wrinkly old guys didn't have anything on Benton Fraser, whose cotton undies clung to every dip, curve and sculpted muscle group on that delicious bod. It was a measure of the buttoned-upness of the man that a covering which did not reveal inch one of skin was enough to make Ray hard in about three seconds flat.

When he walked in that night and saw Lady Shoes wearing a pair of Fraser's finest, he'd seen red, all right, but not because he was staring at her shapely tits. No, it was because if anybody was going to be sharing Fraser's underwear, he wanted it to be him.

There. He said it. Say it, mean it.

Shit. If he had to have one of them fetishes, why the hell couldn't it have been over the French maid outfit you found in the Frederick's of Hollywood catalogue? This was just weirdsville, here.

So it was no surprise that when they were getting suited up for their adventure, Ray's feet took him over to the longjohns aisle, which in any Hudson's Bay outlet in the Northwest Areas, occupied about half the fuckin' store. Anyway, he couldn't stop his hands from traveling over the surfaces of the material as he walked. There was red cotton and gray wool and cream coloured stuff that was supposed to be the latest space age material, wicking the moisture away from your body.

"Wicking, huh," he muttered.

"What was that?" Fraser asked him, about two inches off his left ear. Jeez. How come Ray hadn't noticed he'd gotten that close?

"Nothing," he snapped, reaching across the bin for a red number in his size.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Something was up. And not in a good way.

Okay, maybe it was a little bizarro to want to sleep in them, especially since they weren't even officially on the Adventure yet, but were still holed up in a cheap hotel in downtown Yellowknife. Which was heated by electric baseboard heaters just like anyplace normal. He didn't really need them.

Fraser, of course, had to point this out. He was wearing some nice, boring, squared-off pyjamas that made him look like Dick Van Dyke about to politely fuck Mary Tyler Moore. "Ah, Ray," he said, "I think you'll be uncomfortably warm in those."

His voice was strange, like there was something heavy on his chest.

Ray shrugged. "I got a premonition. The power might go out, maybe." Oh, that was lameness.

"Actually, the power grid in Yellowknife is quite reliable, owing largely to the--"

Ray made a chop-chop motion with his hand. "I don't need the lesson in utilities, thanks. I'm actually trying to see if they're, well, too scratchy, you know? I might need to return them, 'cause I got, ah, sensitive skin." Which was bullshit. Ray had a hide like a rhino, and he knew it.

Fraser's neck jerked to one side. "Cotton is the, that is, one of the most hypo-allergenic--"

"Fraser," Ray said, his voice slow and even, "is there some reason you do not want me wearing these longjohns?"

And then something funny not-ha-ha happened.

Fraser's face turned as red as Ray's underwear.

He licked his lips once.

Twice.

Then his blue, blue eyes flicked nervously over Ray's body, from ankle to collarbone. Ray could feel the weight of that gaze travel the length of him, and he sucked in a startled breath.

_Holy mother of God. _

Looked like Ray wasn't the only one with a fetish.

Ray felt the grin start way down deep inside him. By the time it reached the surface, he was already across the room, standing in his red cotton longjohns with his chest precisely one-half to three inches from Fraser's chest. One half when Fraser inhaled, three when he exhaled. And he was doing a lot of both.

"Mine's got one of those trap doors," Ray breathed. "Yours?"

Fraser stared at him, eyes wild as a cornered animal's. He nodded, once. Once was enough.

"This is gonna be fun," Ray said through the grin, right before Fraser swallowed it.

**Author's Note:**

> First published August 2003.


End file.
